


My Tears Dried, but My Heart Died

by Marveljunkie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (dead sam), Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 19:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13771326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marveljunkie/pseuds/Marveljunkie
Summary: Sam isn't waking up.





	My Tears Dried, but My Heart Died

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spnshortstories! So blessed to be a part of something so wonderful and special.

Sam's body goes limp.

Dean's world goes dark. 

A void of nothingness casts a cold shadow over his shoulders and an icy hand grips the confines of his aching heart. The world around him stills as he flashes back to every promise of protection, every moment of their lives that Sam trusted him. Dean’s stomach drops and his green eyes glaze over with disbelief and horror at the fact that he has now broken that trust. Hot tears drip down his face and gather at his chin as he collects his quiet, still little brother in his arms. He can't get up, not wanting to let go of Sam for one instant, as if he can bring Sam back by sheer will and love.

It doesn't work. 

He waves Bobby off with one hand and refuses any offers of help that come within three feet of them. He doesn't need pity. Doesn't need someone to tell him that it’s going to be okay. The only person he ever needed is gone, and no one will ever replace his pain-in-the-ass little brother. 

Eventually, Dean manages to pull himself up. His knees ache and his head throbs from all the tears that he shed, but he barely notices. He gently hefts Sam's long, limp body into his arms and carries him to the car with shaking hands. Numbly, he rearranges Sam's body to fold into the back seat, and he buckles him in. Like this, maybe Dean can pretend just a little longer that Sam’s chest isn’t moving anymore. It's been a long drive, and Sam's tired, so he's in the back sleeping. He's not dead. He's not dead.

He's not dead. 

A fresh wave of tears threatens to overflow from his watery eyes as Dean slides himself behind the wheel and sees his hands, covered in dirt and blood. Sam's blood. The empty passenger seat catches his mournful eyes and he glances up at the rear view mirror, desperately trying to recover his little illusion, but Sam is too still. He isn’t drooling. His head is twisted wrongly to the side.

Dean bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood and the bitter, coppery taste fills his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment, carefully and efficiently locking down his grief. Must get back to the motel. 

With a deep, shuddering inhale he starts the engine and begins the silent drive to the motel. Dean passes by other cars two different times on the back roads, and he tries to imagine a different life for the two of them where they got to be normal and happy. Despite his attempt to envision such a thing, he can’t. Hunting was a part of them. Now it’s the end of them. 

He knows that Sammy’s sleeping, so he doesn’t turn on any music. As he pulls into a mostly-vacant parking lot with the waxing gibbous moon and the bright headlights guiding the way, Dean knows that it's late enough outside that he can carry Sam’s inanimate body to the room without any questions or curious eyes. 

Dean fumbles to unlock the door and kicks it open with his boot as he enters with his cold brother tucked against his chest. As he stares at Sam, unmoving on the motel bed, it really begins to sink in like thorny vines in his head. Sam's gone. Solid gone. Dean always thought… well, with the hunter’s life and all, he never imagined he would outlive Sam. His little brother was supposed to stay safe, be a lawyer, marry his dream girl, have kids, be a grandfather, own a huge golden retriever -- live the American dream. Not have his goddamn spinal cord severed and die right in front of his eyes.

Suddenly he feels older than his twenty-six years and he collapses onto the uncomfortable mattress of the other twin bed, his elbows digging into his jean-clad thighs and his head in his hands. The crushing weight of responsibility and grief settles on his shoulders like a rock. 

Dean has to bring Sam back. He has to do something. Sam had a life so short, a life he never even wanted to have in the first place, and he was ripped from the world merely out of unfair circumstances and bad timing. Dean should have prevented it all. 

He will bring Sam back. No matter the cost. No matter what he has to do for his resurrection. He owes it to his father, to the infinite promise he made all those years ago and strived to keep. 

Look out for Sammy.

This is the first and only time he has ever failed… but maybe he can still make it right. Dean refuses to break his word now, although things seem utterly hopeless and pointless as he does his best not to cry from the way Sam’s too-long arm hangs off of the edge of the bed. He will find a way to save him because Sam deserves it, no questions asked. That’s what family does for each other. 

The weight lifts as he leaves the motel room behind, puts his things in a tin box, plants it at a crossroad during twilight, sells himself, and kisses the smirking, sinister demon. Sam will have a second chance to live his life as a normal man. Dean will die in the process, but that's okay. That's how the story should have ended in the first place. The world doesn't need another misguided, drunken killer. They need good people like Sam to be lawyers, save the corporate world, and make sure everyone gets a fair end of the deal.

Dean does not look forward to an eternity burning and screaming in hell, but it's a small sacrifice he must make to pay for Sam's life. At least when he dies a year later, ripped apart by the teeth and claws of hellhounds, the world will still have the light of Sammy. With that thought in mind, Dean finishes the sour kiss, drives himself back home, forces a smile, and finds his brother no longer limp and lifeless, but awake on the motel bed.


End file.
